


classy girls (don’t kiss in bars)

by inejcrows



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Mentions of past abuse, and coming up with a cute jonsa concept, this is just me listening to the lumineers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-02-18 03:07:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21620818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inejcrows/pseuds/inejcrows
Summary: He tugs her locks a little, hard enough for her chin to jut forward but delicate enough that it doesn’t startle her. It just turns her on even more.The sound that escapes her lips is almost obscene. Her blue eyes closed.His arm is now circling her waist, she thinks he might kiss her.She wants him to kiss her.Oh, so desperately.
Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, Jon Snow/Sansa Stark, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Myrcella Baratheon/Bran Stark, Robb Stark/Jeyne Westerling
Comments: 59
Kudos: 200





	1. picture my surprise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [k0skareeves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/k0skareeves/gifts).



> this is for gabi, she encouraged me to write again and she has hyped me up when i felt my works were terrible.
> 
> thank you, love.
> 
> for kate too because i love her.

One of his hands is in her hair, tangled in the messy curls he has freed from her braid.

The other hand is right by her head, palm flat out on the surface of his apartment’s door.

They are just looking at each other.

His eyes are _hungry_.

A wolf watching his prey.

 _Tender_.

A man watching his woman.

She almost laughs at that.

 _His_ woman? Who does she think she is?

– almost.

She can’t chuckle or scoff or smile at her thoughts.

Not when his hand slides from next to her ear to her jaw, fingertips trailing down her neck, his palm on her collarbone and then down to her breast.

She sighs, cants her hips forward, she’s searching, demanding, pleading, begging.

For something.

For _him_.

The intensity of his gaze is almost enough to make her moan but she whimpers instead when he stops touching her through the fabric of the dress.

He tugs her locks a little, hard enough for her chin to jut forward but delicate enough that it doesn’t startle her. It just turns her on even more. 

The sound that escapes her lips is almost obscene. Her blue eyes closed.

His arm is now circling her waist, she thinks he might kiss her.

She _wants_ him to kiss her.

Oh, so _desperately_.

It’s impossible for them to get closer together, his leg is between her own, her hands have been moving rhythmically ( _chest, shoulders, neck, cheeks, hair_ ) for the past ten minutes and she is completely at his mercy.

He finally – _finally_ – leans closer.

His lips kiss her forehead first, unexpectedly soft. He presses a kiss to her temple next. Then her cheekbone, under her eye, the corner of her mouth.

She moves her face, chasing his touch but he pulls back. Not too much but enough to avoid contact.

He smirks and tuts at her, his words barely a whisper.

“What was that about classy girls?”

* * *

She steps out of the taxi, legs pressed together as to not flash anyone.

The dress she’s wearing is not sinfully short – she _is_ meeting her siblings, after all – but it wouldn’t be Catelyn Stark approved and that might be enough to grant her some free drinks tonight.

The evening is chilly and she regrets not having brought a jacket until she enters Hot Pie’s.

It’s warm, all the tables are occupied and the chatter is loud.

The place stinks of beer and cheap liquor and the floor is sticky but she feels strangely comfortable.

She spots them in the back, drinks already in their hands, Robb signaling for her to join the group.

She hasn’t seen her family in months, a bad breakup had led her to pack up and leave town. She had traveled a lot, coming back with her head clearer and less marks on her skin.

She beams at her big brother who is now engulfing her in what could only be called a bear hug.

“I missed you so much, Sans. So much,” he mumbles in her hair.

She thinks about the fight they had just before she decided to book a flight to Italy.

She thinks about herself, crying on the phone, accusing him and their father of not caring enough about her.

She thinks about how desperately she had wanted Robb to burst through the door and break Joffrey’s nose.

Her family had learned then, during the phone call, how much she had suffered.

The selfishness that came with dropping everything without warning had felt incredibly good, necessary, _cathartic_.

In the months after her outburst Robb had reached out, to mend their relationship.

They had started talking again and now she brushes away the stray tear on his cheek, laughing.

“I missed you, too. I missed all of you,” and it’s true. So true it feels incredible to say out loud.

A confession.

An olive branch.

Peace.

Arya and Bran are next, the former all but throwing herself in her arms and the latter giving her a gentle kiss on the cheek.

They don’t need to say anything, the tenderness in their eyes and touches stronger than any word.

It’s then that she sees the other people at the table.

The first to catch her eye is Myrcella Baratheon, a carbon copy of her mother. She knows her and Bran have been dating for a while now but her green eyes unsettle her for a second before the girl smiles and everything about Cersei disappears in her features – the smile is too genuine, her eyes too soft. Sansa smiles back.

Then a man gets up, he is tall. Good looking. Gendry, she remembers his name from some of Arya’s Instagram photos.

To her surprise he blushes a little, shaking her hand while introducing himself. He doesn’t call himself Arya’s boyfriend but it’s obvious in the way her little sister looks at him, exasperated by his gentlemanly act but _oh_ , so full of love.

A pang of jealousy hits her because she had always been the one who wanted the swooning romance. She had wanted to be swept away by a knight. Instead, she is the one that got hurt the most, the one who is now single and at times lonely.

It hurts too much to think about it so she focuses on how happy she is her little sister has found love because Sansa is nothing if not a big sap.

Jeyne tries to get up, shutting down Robb’s complains but Sansa comes closer to her instead and puts a hand on her belly with her permission.

Six months pregnant and glowing, her sister-in-law looks tired but happy and Sansa is grateful she came back when she did, she wouldn’t dare miss her nephew’s birth.

Sitting next to the only free chair it’s a man she barely recognizes, he’s wearing glasses and has now a beard that suits him perfectly but it’s the curly black hair that gives his identity away.

Jon Snow is looking straight at her, smirking and..

When did he get this hot?

  
When did Robb’s childhood best friend become a man worthy of her _wildest_ sexual fantasies?

She tries to remember him at Robb and Jeyne’s wedding. So long ago now.

She had been so preoccupied with Joffrey, he had been so angry when she had had to go back North for the ceremony, that she had not paid much attention to anything but her phone for the whole weekend.

She vaguely recalls Jon, arm in arm with his girlfriend. Ygritte. A redhead.

The thought comes unbidden and she tucks it away for later consideration.

She takes the seat next to him, her cheeks a little red.

“Hey, how do you do?” she asks.

He chuckles, fingers playing with the label of his half finished beer.

“I’m good, Sansa,” he looks at her, “how have you been?”

It feels intimate, the way he is speaking to her. Heads closer to hear each other better, his eyes fixated on her.

She feels almost compelled to tell him that she still cries out when a man she doesn’t know lifts his arm too abruptly, that she still has nightmares, that she refuses to open up completely to her therapist, that even though she has forgiven them, she can never forget how her family accepted her distance without questioning her motives. Instead she nods, as if to say that everything is fine and starts talking about all the places she has visited during her months away.

The others join in the conversation too but she finds herself speaking to Jon the most.

He is a good listener, laughing at the right time and contributing to the conversation. It feels liberating.

* * *

They get closer, as the night goes on.

His chair is now completely turned towards her and their legs touch, the table is relatively small and there’s not a lot of space so when she basically finds herself with one leg over his knee she blames it on that and the beers they are having.

Very shitty beers.

The logo has a kangaroo on it and when he points out how much he hates kangaroos she laughs so hard she cries.

When the music starts the whole table – except Jeyne – is tipsy enough to match her own excitement when she stands up and demands they dance.

She twirls around with the other girls for what feels like hours. She fails to remember when she has last felt this carefree.

She dances with her brothers too, she makes Bran’s wheelchair spin and it probably annoys the other people on the makeshift dance floor but they don’t care.

Jon puts an arm around her waist when the others are all coupled up and she giggles when he starts slow dancing with her.

“Jon?”

They are swaying left and right and he is holding her against him.

“Mh?” he looks at her, cheeks rosy and a grin on his face.

“Why are we slow dancing to Britney Spears?”

He starts laughing so hard it’s contagious, soon they are both giggling like mad but still in each other’s arms.

When they stop and the song ends he doesn’t let go so she just puts her head on his shoulder and enjoys the rhythmic lull of his breathing.

She wonders if he does it a lot, if he is used to going in bars and flirting with random pretty girls but it doesn’t seem like something Jon would do. And she’s not a random pretty girl, not to him.

* * *

When they get back to table, Jeyne and Robb are getting ready to go home and Sansa hugs them both with the promise of lunch some time next week.

When Bran and Myrcella call it a night too Jon is showing her his half a dollar ring, which is actually pretty fucking cool and it gives her an excuse to focus on his hands.

Then, Arya and Gendry decide to call a taxi and they leave but not before her little sister raises her eyebrows suggestively at them.

Once they are alone she fears the atmosphere might break but he just gets more comfortable in his chair and lifts her legs, putting them fully across his own. He strokes her calves up and down while he talks about uni and work and his ex-girlfriends and life in general.

She’s completely enraptured by him, the way he pushes his glasses up and the way he ruffles his hair making it even more messy.

She wonders what would have happened if she had given Jon a chance before today, if she had noticed him earlier but dwelling in the past is never healthy so she focuses again on how funny and smart and extremely pretty he is.

The crowd has calmed down by now but they are still sitting with their heads close and when he leans in for a kiss she’s not surprised.

She’s the one that surprises him by turning her head down, instead of meeting him halfway.

“Why?” his voice is hoarse and when she looks at him she expects anger or disappointment but what she sees is concern, confusion.

She understands then what kind of man he is.

She should’ve known, Robb and Arya would never be friends with a terrible person, but she’s so relieved she can trust him completely she feels like crying.

She beams at him instead, so incandescently happy he can’t help but smile back.

“Oh, Jon,” she tuts at him, jokingly. “You have done nothing wrong. It’s just what it is”

His hand is on her thigh, high enough but way too low.

“Classy girls don’t kiss in bars like this” and he laughs.


	2. flowers in your hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’m so sorry i’ve been away for so long.  
> i don’t really have any great excuse, i’m very insecure about my writing and sometimes the motivation disappears.  
> this chapter comes from my need for fluff and from gabi asking me to write again.  
> also, we were talking in the gc and were discussing how touch starved jon is. i had to include it in this, he deserves to be loved too.
> 
> if there’s someone still out there that wants to read this, thank you. i hope it doesn’t disappoint.

She is dragging him out of Hot Pie’s by the hand, laughing.

She’s wild and beautiful and Gods, does he want to kiss her. But they are playing a game and he won’t lose.

They will kiss tonight, he knows it like he knows the sky is blue and like he knows he’s always been madly in love with her.

They will kiss but not before she asks him to, not before she _begs_ him to.

He has waited years for her, he can wait a little more.

They are both tipsy but the fresh air sobers them a little and when she starts shivering - the short dress she’s wearing doing nothing to shield her from the breeze - he doesn’t hesitate to take off his denim jacket and give it to her. 

He helps her with the sleeves and adjusts the collar just because he can and the action brings them closer together.

She wraps her arms around his middle and puts her head on his shoulder, sighing contentedly. 

He’s taken aback for a second, Sansa has always been an affectionate person but never with him and it’s silly, considered he knows now that she’s at least attracted to him, but it makes his heart soar having her in his arms like this, just happy to be held. 

People walk past them on the sidewalk while they stand like that, his hand stroking the ends of her braid and her eyes closed.

He asks her then, because his mother raised him right and he’s afraid she might be tired, if she wants to go home.

She hums a little, nuzzling his neck.

“With you”, she says. “I wanna go home with you” - so that’s where he takes her.

* * *

His flat is not big and he’s no interior designer but she doesn’t seem to care when they enter and she starts touching him, her hands moving from his chest, to his shoulders, neck, cheeks, hair. 

She doesn’t seem to care about anything when he starts teasing her, a hand grazing her breast, a tug on her hair, kisses all over her face but not where she wants them, her words from earlier used against her.

Still, she doesn’t ask, she doesn’t break and he smirks at her before taking a step back and going to the kitchen. 

She hears her exhale loudly and then she’s right behind him. 

She watches him while he takes out some water and pours it for the both of them, conscious of the number of beers they have drunk. 

She takes the glass he hands her and when she puts it down she gives him a small smile, kisses his cheek and hugs him again. 

For the second time tonight, he tenses a little - surprised.

She seems to notice because she meets his eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

He could lie, he could tease her but he settles for the truth because this is not a random hook up, this is Sansa Stark, the woman he has always loved and thought would never be enough for.

He takes his time before answering her, brings her even closer to him, breathes in the flowery scent of her hair. He could die like this and be happy.

“I’m not.. I’m not used to.. this”, it’s very vague but before he can tell her to forget it, it’s just him being weird, her eyes soften.

“Not used to me hugging you?”

“Not only you. Just.. in general” and Gods, does she look sad at his words.

“But you had girlfriends..”, she is frowning now and his heart beats faster because his past relationships were a mess but the idea of her being the kind of girlfriend that does little things like this, not to seduce someone but just to love them, takes his breath away. 

He wants it so bad for her to be his forever that it hurts.

He shakes his head at her implicit question. No, his past girlfriends weren’t the affectionate type. Not outside of sex.

She presses a kiss to his jaw and then, “come”. 

He follows her, knowing damn well he’d follow her wherever she wants him to.

When she reaches his bedroom and opens the door, Ghost is lying on the bed - looking annoyed at them interrupting his sleep - but when he sees Sansa he runs to her, tail wagging and she giggles, crouching down to pet him.

Jon realizes then that his dog might need to go out for a bit, having been home alone for the past few hours. 

He apologizes to Sansa but she just smiles, gives him another peck on the cheek and tells him to hurry up. 

* * *

When he comes back home to her, after Ghost has settled himself on the sofa, he enters his bedroom and closes the door behind him.

He’s not prepared for the sight that greets him: Sansa has made herself welcome in his bed, she’s sitting upright under the covers, looking at her phone.

When she spots him, she beams at him and he could look at her first the rest of his life.

When he moves to his wardrobe to change for the night, he sees her dress neatly folded on his desk chair and he looks back at her, just now noticing she’s wearing one of his old t-shirts.

“I hope you don’t mind”, she bites her lip, almost insecure, like he would be angry. 

Like he’s not _dying_ to see if her legs are bare underneath the blankets. 

He shakes his head at her, smiling and she relaxes.  He can’t help the sadness that washes over him at the thought of her expecting anger over something so innocent.

He gets in bed with her after he has brushed his teeth and changed into a pair of sweatpants. He doesn’t put on a shirt because _well_ , he runs hot and he’s still aware that their game is not over yet.

Once they are side by side, she lies down and turns towards him. He does the same and it feels intimate, almost domestic.

What’s happening between them is not what usually happens when he brings girls home after a night out. There’s no asking _them_ to wait until he walks his dog, there are no shy smiles and tentative touches. 

This is different, this feels like the start of something.

She looks at him, a glint in her eyes he can’t quite place and then she traces his face with her index finger. It’s just a light touch, soft and caring and he closes his eyes instantly, enjoying the sensation.

She laughs when he takes her wrist and kisses her fingertips.

“It’s unfair no one has loved like you deserve”, she whispers.

“I could say the same thing”, he mimics her actions and her skin is so soft.

There’s pain in her eyes and he hates he has put it there. He’s about to apologize but she snuggles closer to him and starts talking.

She tells him of what Joffrey did to her, she tells him of how hurt she was when her family dropped her (he hates himself a little because he could’ve done something, _anything_ ), she tells him of how her months abroad healed her bruises but how her mind is still a mess, she makes a joke about keeping him up because of her nightmares and he listens to it all, kissing away the few tears that escape her eyes.

She asks him if she said too much, if she has scared him away, when she finishes and he can’t help himself then, he has no self-control when it comes to her.

“Sansa, I’ve loved you for years. Since we were children and you wore flowers in your hair, I loved you when I was with someone else and when you were scolding me and Robb for getting in trouble with the cops and when you went away and I love you right now. Especially now”, he’s not good with words but she seems so happy, he thinks he might have said the right thing for the first time in forever.

“I think that I could love you back”, she says and Gods, his vision clouds with tears of happiness, “I hope it’s not too late. I should’ve realized sooner, Jon. I wish I did”.

He drops his forehead to hers and he murmurs that it’s not too late. That all that time apart has just made this moment better.

He kisses the corner of her mouth now, a smirk on his lips. She chases him, clearly wanting more but still not asking so he puts a little distance between them.

“Ah, love, only if you ask me nicely”, she huffs but he chuckles and doesn’t relent. 

She runs her finger through his hair, moves his face closer to hers once again.

“Come on, Sansa, use your words. Tell me what you want, tell me what you want me to do to you”.

She gasps. 

A beat of silence.

And then.

“Kiss me, Jon. Please, kiss-“, he cuts her off by putting his elbows on either side of her face, effectively hovering over her and finally, _finally_ , _finally_ , leaning in.

He had wished for their first kiss to be soft and gentle but it’s more desperate and all consuming.

She moans underneath him and it’s probably the best sound he has ever heard in his life. Her hands move all over his chest, dip down to his abs and his breath hitches when her fingers reach the band of his pants.

“I wanna make you feel good”, she says and he almost loses it right there and then.

When her hand wraps around him, he knows she’ll be the death of him.

She starts stroking him and he kisses her so many times both of their lips are red and swollen.

“Sansa, baby, I need you to stop”, he groans, mouth to her neck where he’s leaving marks he hopes she won’t mind.

His own hands travel up her ( _bare, bare, bare, bare_ ) thigh and found her panties. He gets rid of them quickly (they are black and lacy and Gods, he can’t wait to see her in every single piece of lingerie she owns) and then does the same thing with her ( _his_ ) t-shirt. He almost moans when he sees she’s not wearing a bra and he kisses her breasts until she is asking for more. 

She’s wet when he finally touches her and she grabs his hair when he licks from her sternum down, down, down.

She shivers and whimpers and moans and finally comes, all thanks to him.

The satisfied smile on her face is there because of him too and he falls in love with her over and over again every time he makes her fall apart that night using his tongue again, his fingers, his cock.

* * *

In the morning, he wakes with her cuddled up to him. 

The light coming from the window makes her hair look like fire and she looks beautiful like this, relaxed, naked, next to him.

He has never felt happiness quite like this before and he can’t even find it alarming, it just feels right.

He disentangles from her and walks over to the kitchen to prepare breakfast.

She pads in twenty minutes later, a pout on her beautiful face and his old t-shirt back on.

“Morning, sunshine”, he says while putting a cup of coffee in front of her.

“Let’s go back to bed”, she mumbles, tugging his arm to steer in the direction of the bedroom.

“Later”, he kiss her forehead and then pecks her on the lips, “first, we eat”.

They are eating when she tells him that it’s the first time in forever since she has had a good night sleep, “it’s thanks to you” she adds very matter of factly.

“Oh, is it?”, he teases.

“It is. Can we go back to bed, now?”

He ignores her question but gets up with her when she exits the kitchen.

“Spend the night with me tonight too. Stay with me”, he’s the one that initiates contact between them now. He hugs her from behind and she relaxes in his arms.

“Yes. I’ll stay with you forever”

“Forever?”

“Forever”

She giggles when he basically throws her on the bed and kisses her breathless but the ‘forever’ hangs between them, meaningful and real.

It feels like a promise.

He kisses her again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello!   
> just to add to my nervousness, this was my first smut-ish scene ever, i hope it wasn’t completely terrible.
> 
> english is not my first language so i’m sorry for any possible mistakes. 
> 
> follow me on twitter @yenslilac and on tumblr @liliumpotter.
> 
> leave a comment or kudos, it means a lot.
> 
> title of this chapter + part of the “i love you” confessions from “flowers in your hair” by the lumineers ☺️

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on twitter @keysansa and on tumblr @liliumpotter.
> 
> leave a comment or kudos if you liked this, i’m actually kind of nervous.  
> leave a comment if you hated it too, just for fun 😉
> 
> title and fic inspo: classy girls by the lumineers.


End file.
